The Fire
by colasun
Summary: She saw the circus, her home, burning down. With Phillip in it. That follish man had captured her heart. The mere thought of him in this building, within the flames and the heat, was breaking Anne. He had to be alive. He just had to.


**Hello guys!**

 **I really loved The Greatest Showman. I've seen it in the cinema and have it now on DVD. All the colors, the story, the music… the actors… have I mentioned the music yet? So, I thought long and hard about Phillip and Anne, have read all the fanfictions I could find about them and began to write a Oneshot myself. I hope you like it!**

 **Thanks to my beta for putting up with me my English.**

 **Lots of Love!**

 **Your colasun!**

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 _ **The Fire**_

"W. D.!" Securely she landed in her brother's arms. Relief washed over her. They were safe. W. D. hugged her tightly, also relieved that she was alright. "I made it out of the back door.", she told him. "Thank god.", he breathed. Together they made their way to the others. Even Barnum, wherever he came from, was there. But his attention wasn't focused on his troup. He looked back and forth between Charity and the children and the burning building. From the looks of it there was no way the firefighters were able to do anything to turn the flames down. Even if they wanted to. They lost their home because of the stupid protesters, she thought. Did they have to destroy everything they didn't understand? First they payed admission, then they caused problems. Wasn't this kind of behavior a contradiction in itself?

She had heard the noise from the ring too late to do anything and she was not a fighter. Not physically anyway. Then there was the smoke and the flames that creped their way through the wood. Her first thought was about her brother. Was he safe? Was he hurt? What about Phillip? What about her colleagues and friends? What about the animals? But the way to the ring was no longer there. It was swallowed by the fire.

Anne now glanced around her. Lettie looked frightened to the bone, but unharmed. W. D. still held Anne against his strong body. "Did everybody make it out?", she asked. He avoided her gaze and she just knew something was wrong. Barnum's shout rang through the night and it explained the uneasy feeling in her guts.

"Phillip! Phillip!" One last time he looked at his wife, before he sprinted towards the burning building. Her brain went blank. "He came out supporting Lettie.", W. D. answered her unsaid question. "I helped the others. Then he shouted at me where you were. That's when I realized you weren't with us. He turned around and ran back into the circus. Looking for you. Barnum couldn't catch him in time, but he held me back from running in myself." Tears were streaming down her face at this point and she stared paralyzed into the flames.

Phillip was in there. Her Phillip, like Anne secretly thought of him. But he was not hers. She had rejected him because she was afraid. Not only for herself, but mostly for him. That he will break her heart. That she will break his heart. That people will break them apart. People like his parents. Phillip Carlyle was no knight in shining armor, but nobody's perfect, right? In the end he had stood up for her and was disowned by his family for that. Society now looked down on the man that they proclaimed just months before the most eligible bachelor in the city.

They didn't come from the same world and it would be easier for the both of them to forget about what happened or not happened between them. Stolen glances and touches. As they flew together she was able to feel the impressive body he was hiding under his exclusive clothes, which were the source of some jokes and imaginations under the performers. It had felt so good to hold him and be hold by him.

With a loud crash the dome of the building came down. Gasps were heard, quiet sobs, sniveling and all above that, they heard and felt the roaring fire. It couldn´t be, Anne thought. It just couldn´t be. She leaned into her brother and hid her face on his shoulder. His arm went around her, soothing her, trying to protect her from the unavoidable truth. Nobody could have survived this.

W. D. had known about the mutual affection between her and Phillip and was very disapproving and suspicious. A white and rich young man couldn't have an honest interest in a woman like her. Maybe he did find her beautiful, but not so much as to be with her out in the open. Marrying her like a proper man should do. And be it as it may, the people wouldn't approve just because of the color of her skin and they would speak ill of them. Of her. It was simply impossible, so it would be best for everybody to not take any chances. He had chosen his words carefully, so her temper wouldn't flare too much about his overly protectiveness. Anne had rolled her eyes on him, but known in her heart, that he was right. It would be best.

After the Jenny Lind concert, W. D. didn't tell her he was right, but the looks her gave her were enough. They all had seen his fingers intertwined with hers and they all had seen how he had let go when an elderly couple talked about them.

After his parents called her 'the help' at the theater and Phillip defended her, she had refused to talk to her brother about it altogether. She had ended whatever it was between them. Maybe she should have lied to Phillip instead of confess her feelings. Maybe then it wouldn't have hurt as much as it did. Anne simply had felt like he deserved the truth. She would never forget his heartbroken look when she took his hand off her waist and told him that it was impossible. She wanted him, so badly, but she couldn't have him.

"Daddy!", she heard the girls scream. Something in their voice caught her attention and she tore her eyes over to the burning building. Burnum emerged from the steps, carrying an unconscious figure in his arms, like he weighed nothing. They were both covered in ash and soot, as a coughing Phillip was laid on the ground before them.

He looked awful. His dress shirt was torn and no longer white, blood trickled down his temple from a bad looking cut on his forehead and she could see burns on his upper body and his hands. What the hell had he done? Every part of her wanted to run to this man, hug him and kiss him, until everything was good again. But she restrained herself for now while the circus leader felt his pulse. "He's breathing, but barely. Take him! Quick!" Two paramedics loaded him on an uncomfortable looking stretcher and took him away. Tears were floating her eyes.

"You can't help him just now, Annie." Her brother, of course, knew where her mind went. She wanted to be with Phillip Carlyle in every sense of the word. Nurse him back to health and never let him out of her sight again, so he didn't do anything stupid like that again. "The doctors will help him, won't they?", she asked her older brother. They had to help him. W. D. hesitated a moment too long, before he assured her of it.

Together they watched the building burning down. In the end it was nothing more than smoking rubble. Her thoughts were entirely with Phillip. How was he? Had he woken up yet? She had to get to him as soon as possible or else she was going to go insane at some point. P. T. organized quarters for all of them to his best abilities. It was not much, but better than nothing. Charity took her and the girls to see Phillip. Caroline and Helen adored him like the big brother they didn't have and he loved them just as much. He would play with them, pick them up, let them hang from his back, make them laugh and give them sweets when he thought Charity wasn't looking.

The sight of him in this damned hospital bed was enough to ignore the comments from the hospital staff. The nurses had cleaned him as best as they could and clothed him. They even had combed his hair. He fussed over his hair too much anyway. Charity urged her to sit with him, so he didn't feel alone when he finally woke up. The girls had kissed his cheeks, much like they used to, but restrained from proclaiming his name like they used to. Caroline and Helen whispered to him, mindful of their surroundings. Charity kissed his forehead, like a mother would do, like his mother had probably never done. Anne would have found it endearing, if it weren't for her need to be alone with Phillip.

When they were gone, she took one of his hands in her own. His fingers were partly bandaged, angry red skin looking out of it. She intertwined her fingers with his and wrapped her other hand securely around them with the intention to not let go before he opened his eyes. Quietly the trapeze-artist sang their song. He had wanted to rewrite their stars. Now she was ready to let herself do that. With him.

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 **There we are. 1475 words. What do you think about it?**


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